


L'Histoire de Xainn

by Self_Aware_Protagonist



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Basically how La Cite des Cloches fell to the darkness, Gen, Original Character(s), Pre-Dream Drop Distance, Pre-Keyblade War, Pretty much the entire plot of the Hunchback musical, Rewritten Hunchback but without the g word, Self-Insert, its not really a fix it fic if everything went wrong originally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 17:39:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15515067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Self_Aware_Protagonist/pseuds/Self_Aware_Protagonist
Summary: (The Tale of Xainn) Diverging from her normal adventures in Daybreak Town, Xainn is tasked to visit La Cite des Cloches. There, she finds a world on the brink of darkness, and the people - and monsters - who cause its demise.





	L'Histoire de Xainn

**Author's Note:**

> This version of the story does follow the Hunchback of Notre Dame musical, but also from the perspective of someone who cannot be present during every situation. If you listen to the soundtrack (which I highly encourage), the story is much more raw and gritty. This musical left such an impression on me, and it was an honor to be a part of it.

She lived in the timeline the shadows did not spare. Here, the malices of reality seeped in through the cracks, tainting all who came in contact. Here, the heroes were corruptible, fallible men and women whose hearts were not free from darkness’s touch. Here, she witnessed the darkness in all its regal cruelty.

 

“You’re going to a new world today.” Chirithy instructed, hopping into the air. “La Cité des Cloches. Be careful, you don’t know what to expect.”

Xainn brandished her Keyblade, opening the corridor of darkness and stepping inside. Upon her exit, she found herself in a medieval town. The morning sky blazed above the city, and reaching to meet it, a massive gothic cathedral, its saints and spires glaring down at her below. A glittering stained glass window decorated the space between the two towers of the facade.

Immediately, Xainn noticed her appearance had changed to blend into her surroundings: her purple-silver hair had grown in thick curls down to her waist instead of bobbing just below her ears, tied back with a silken paisley kerchief; her normal wielder’s clothes had changed to the mismatched rags of a traveler, and her dark blue skirt brushed the ground. She turned to stare up at the towering cathedral, eyes fixed to the glass window.

The bells inside the cathedral sounded, spreading their melody across the city. It startled her at first, but a smile spread across her face.

“What do you think you’re doing out here, and standing right in front of it?” A voice behind her demanded in a hushed tone.

She whirled around to find a slim man in a jester costume and mask peeking out from behind another building.

“Who...are you?” Xainn asked in response, but the man grabbed her wrist, yanking her away from the cathedral’s glory.

“Not important, what’s important is who _you_ are,” the man answered. He led her around the cathedral to a red caravan, the outside draped in multicolored flags.

“I’m Xainn,” she responded, stepping inside to the caravan. Inside, wooden and cloth puppets of all designs hung limp on the walls, waiting for their puppeteer to bring them to life. “I’m...not from here.”

The man scoffed. “And you think _I_ am? I am Clopin, Master Puppeteer and King of the Court of Miracles.” He waved his hand in a sweeping gesture.

“The Court of Miracles?” Xainn questioned. “Is this what this place is?”

Clopin glanced at the puppets on the walls. “This? Oh no, this does not even compare to the Court of Miracles.” His eyes widened, as if to make a realization. “I’ve said too much; how am I to know you aren’t one of his spies?”

Xainn knitted her brows. “Whose spies?”

“Archdeacon Claude Frollo, the man who oversees all processions of the cathedral of Notre Dame,” Clopin replied darkly. “He is a vile and cruel man, who will stop at nothing to rid the world of people like us.”

“‘People like us’?” Xainn wondered.

Clopin gestured to Xainn darkly. “The thieves, the beggars, the unsavory traveling folk...us. He will stop at nothing until the world is rid of our filth.”

She sighed in exasperation. “I don’t understand, why does this man hate you so much? What have you ever done to him?”

Clopin turned to rub his thumb over a puppet of a man wearing rags. “Perhaps, it has something to do with what happened almost twenty years ago to him.”

Xainn glanced behind her, finding a wooden stool for her to sit upon. “What happened twenty years ago?”

Clopin removed the puppet from the wall, letting the strings dangle from the top. He selected another puppet, one that resembled a priest in white robes. Holding them in front of Xainn, he unraveled his tale.

“The story begins much longer than twenty years ago. Claude Frollo and his brother Jehan were orphaned and found on the steps of Notre Dame. The two brothers couldn’t have been more different: Claude dutifully followed the rules of Notre Dame, while Jehan found excitement and adventure at every turn. He broke every rule, always relying on his older brother to aleve the trouble.

“One night, Jehan brought one of _our_ kind - a girl, Florika - into the cathedral, and she was found immediately. Jehan was banished from the cathedral, much to Claude’s horror. Florika and Jehan left the cathedral, and traveled together for many years with the rest of Florika’s kind.

“It wasn’t until Claude received a message from his brother, and he found Jehan on his deathbed, riddled with sickness. He said Florika had died in childbirth, producing a son. Jehan attempted to care for the boy, but quickly contracted a disease. Jehan begged for his brother to take in the baby, but there was something terrifying and remarkable about the child: he was horribly disfigured, almost unbearable to lay eyes upon. But Claude loved his brother and agreed to take in the child.”

Xainn sat there, contemplating the story. “What happened to the child?”

Clopin flashed her a devilish grin. “Tell me Xainn, who do you think rings the bells in the cathedral? They say a monster lives in the belltower, and rings the bells every hour.”

She met eyes with the mysterious Clopin. “He’s in the belltower, isn’t he?”

“Legend says he hasn’t been outside for almost twenty years,” Clopin mused, “and Frollo gave the boy a most hideous name: Quasimodo, which means ‘half-formed’.”

“That’s horrible!” Xainn said, standing abruptly. “Isn’t someone going to let him out?”

“He will never leave his prison, never see the light of day on his monstrous face.” Clopin replied sadly. “But that isn’t something for you to worry about. Come quickly, we must prepare for the day.”

“What is today?” Xainn wondered, following Clopin out of the caravan and down the winding paths of the city. She turned briefly to admire the cathedral once again, wondering if that “monster” truly lived behind the parapets.

“Today is a special holiday.” Clopin smiled mischievously. “Today is the Feast of Fools, the one day a year when our kind is allowed to dance in public. Today, we make great fortunes from the weary travelers who come from far and wide to partake in the festivities. They don’t notice a few coins lost...”

“Wait...you mean you steal from them?” Xainn clarified.

Clopin stopped in his tracks. “You act as if that’s a monstrous thing to do.”

“It is, I guess,” Xainn responded indignantly.

“My dear, you will realize that there is no other way for us to make a living. It isn’t just Frollo who hates our kind, but practically the whole city does, as well. Even if we wanted to have steady ways of living in this city, we’d be chased out like vermin.” Clopin explained.

The further they traveled from the cathedral and the caravan, Xainn thought about the story Clopin had told her. Was it true that a disfigured man lived among the saints and gargoyles, and that he’d never been outside for as long as he had lived?

How lonely could a life like that be? That kind of solitude could drive a man to insanity, to darkness itself.

“Are you paying attention?” Clopin snapped, grabbing her from the beyond.

On the edges of the town, he had led her to a cemetery, the cold stones bearing the names of those underneath their feet. He stopped at a certain gravestone, a large monolith with a strange marking on the front instead of a name. At his feet lay another slab of stone, which he slipped his fingers under to lift, revealing a staircase underneath the dirt.

“Get inside.” Clopin instructed, and Xainn picked up the hems of her skirt to descend into the darkness.

The pit reeked of sewage and filth, but Clopin lit a torch and pressed onward. He led her deeper into the catacombs, until they came across a large, secluded chamber in the heart of the tunnels. In this chamber, people dressed in rags bustled about with their scarce belongings. Flags just as the ones that hung on Clopin’s caravan draped from the ceiling, which arched almost twenty feet upward.

“Listen up everyone!” Clopin announced, and the people stopped in their actions. “This is Xainn; she will be staying with us until - well, I suppose either she or the rest of us are required to leave.”

He placed his hand on his shoulders, pushing her toward a pair of young men drawing in the dirt: one’s black hair was braided back, while the other seemed to have a permanent smile and talked with large gestures. “That’s Zindela and Meriful, go with them until we are ready to appear for the festival.”

Xainn approached the men, who regarded her with hesitation. “I’m Xainn; it’s okay, I won’t hurt you.”

“We know that,” said Zindela, the one with braided hair, “we just don’t know what Clopin wants us to do at the festival yet.”

Settling on her knees, Xainn spoke softly in case Clopin was within earshot. “Don’t you think it’s wrong to steal from the others at the festival?”

Meriful let out a genuine laugh. “You realize that’s the only way we can get by in this place, don’t you? You truly are new to this, aren’t you? How’d you become like us? Was it family abandonment? Were you a runaway?”

“I’m just...not from here,” Xainn replied steely.

“The festival will begin soon, so we will be going to the surface in groups of at least three to begin!” Clopin instructed, and the people began to assemble in small groups.

“Come, Xainn,” Zindela rose to his feet, offering a hand to Xainn, “there are pockets to pick.”

Her stomach turned uneasily. Even if the others stole, she would not stoop to that level.

In their group of three, Xainn, Meriful, and Zindela traveled to the surface, finding their way to the square just outside Notre Dame. In just a few hours, the square already seemed packed with dancers, acrobats, vendors, and other attendees.

Zindela nodded to a throng of people watching one of the other group members dance. Reaching out his hand, he slipped it gingerly into a man’s belt, extracting a small money pouch. Meriful did the same, stealing a woman’s pocketbook.

“Hey, that’s -” Xainn began, but Meriful yanked her away before she drew attention.

“Come on, you have to otherwise you’re not going to be able to eat tonight,” Zindela coaxed.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not going to steal money from someone,” Xainn insisted, wandering away from them.

“Hey, Clopin said to stick with your group!” Meriful shouted.

“I’m not going far,” she assured, “I’m just going to see what else is happening.”

Turning away from her group, she ran into a cloaked figure running from the opposite direction. They collided, knocking the figure’s hood back.

“Hey, watch where you’re -” Xainn’s words were immediately cut off by a gasp as her eyes fell upon the stranger: his face was horribly disfigured, and his back was hunched over.

“I-I-I’m...sorry,” the man stammered in a slow and raspy voice, attempting to pull his hood over his features.

“Wait...you’re...him, aren’t you? Quasimodo?” Xainn realized, reaching to remove his hood.

“H-how...do you know...my name?” Quasimodo wondered, gripping his cloak nervously and shifting on his feet.

“I heard a story about you, about how you ring the bells every day,” she answered. “It’s alright, I’m not afraid of you.”

“H-how? I am...I am monster…” Quasimodo mumbled, hiding his face.

“No...I don’t believe that.” Xainn refused. “Only humans have hearts, and I’m very sure you have one.”

Quasimodo shifted on his feet nervously, unsure of what to say. Xainn realized he had probably never encountered another human before, especially one who hadn’t been completely terrified of his appearance.

“I’m Xainn.” She offered, holding out a hand to him.

He began to reach for her, when Xainn heard someone call for her name. “I’m sorry, I have to go. Please, be careful out here. It was nice to meet you, Quasimodo.”

She ran off, leaving behind the cloaked hunchback.

Catching up with Zindela and Meriful, they asked her where she had been.

“I...I met a friend.” She answered.

Zindela gasped. “That’s too dangerous! You don’t know who could just lock us up! Even though today is a holiday, we aren’t completely exempt from the law.”

“Besides,” Meriful noted, “we have to get ready for the festival’s big surprise.”

“Big surprise?” Xainn inferred. “What big surprise?”

“There’s a new dancer coming to town,” Zindela explained, “we heard her name is Esmeralda, and supposedly she’s the most beautiful girl in all of La Cité. Come on, we have to get ready for her grand entrance!”

They ran off, not waiting for Xainn to follow.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” A sudden voice stopped her in her tracks, and her heart shuddered in her chest. If she kept letting things distract her, she’d get lost - and worse, maybe into trouble.

She turned to face a soldier in shining gold armor, with his blond hair cropped close to his chin. “What’s a stray orphan like you doing out here? Where’s your parents?”

A bit insulted, Xainn replied, “N-nothing...I’m just...enjoying the festival.”

“Hm,” the soldier drew his sword, and Xainn’s eyes widened. “I highly doubt someone of _your_ kind is just running around innocently.”

He wavered, sensing the fear in Xainn’s eyes. Though Xainn could, she feared drawing her Keyblade for fear of drawing attention.

“However,” the man said, sheathing his sword, “I am here to do the same. And for the four days that this festival goes on, I believe I should participate in as much rest and recreation as I can. You’re free to go, but don’t let me catch you doing anything suspicious.”

Xainn nodded, and ran off in the direction where Zindela and Meriful had gone.

In the distance, music began to swell, a lively tune starting up.

“Step right up folks, and witness the most beautiful girl in all of La Cité! See her mesmerising moves, her enchanting gestures! You will all be captivated by the beauty of La Esmeralda!” Clopin announced, throwing down a puff of smoke. In his place stood a beautiful woman, her scarves and skirt twirling as she shook a tambourine.

The crowd cheered and whistled, marveling at her beauty.

Xainn pushed past the other dancers who had gathered around her stage, also becoming captivated by the woman’s allure.

She waved her hand, gesturing for the other women around her to join in her dance, and Xainn found herself imitating Esmeralda’s dance with the scarves tied around her waist.

The music quickened, and Esmeralda’s dance grew more sultry and inviting. The men around began to toss coins at her feet, some of which the dancer men swept up in their palms.

Xainn hadn’t felt this exhilaration in forever. She dedicated most of her time to finding a lost friend, and completing missions in other worlds.

Her dance ended with a final shake of her tambourine, and Clopin instructed her to line up the men for the next part of the festival.

“It’s time to crown the King of Fools! Step right up and make the ugliest face you can make, and perhaps you will be crowned king for a day!”

Meriful pulled Xainn to a crowd of people, enticing them to make gruesome and monstrous faces. In the corner of her eye, Xainn watched Esmeralda approach a hooded figure, hunched over and shy of the crowd. She pulled back his cloak, exposing his face: Quasimodo.

Xainn moved to them, but Meriful grabbed her arm and led her away. “Hey!”

As the men lined up to display their monstrous faces in a painted cutout of a king, one last person jumped onto the stage to try his luck. The crowd gasped in horror as the face of Quasimodo, the hunchback of legend, willingly showed his face to the citizens of La Cité.

Hushed murmurs of terror swept through the crowd, until Clopin jumped onto the stage himself. “It’s alright everybody! We asked for the ugliest face in La Cité, and we’ve found him! I present, Quasimodo, the hunchback of Notre Dame!”

The crowd rejoiced, slapping a cloth crown on Quasimodo’s head and lifting him above their heads. They carried him on their shoulders through the festival, cheering for their king.

Xainn had to smile, seeing how happy Quasimodo seemed to be. Though the crowd had reacted the same as she had at first, they accepted him. Perhaps things could be better for him now that he had stepped outside.

They returned him to the stage, when someone suddenly threw a tomato at Quasimodo. The fruit splattered against his face, dripping down like watery blood.

The crowd laughed, immediately following suit. Quasimodo was pelted with fruits and vegetables, and Zindela and another soldier jumped onto his stage and held him down.

Horrified, Xainn went to draw her Keyblade, but something stopped her. She noticed, curling around the crowd’s feet: darkness, spreading. It wafted through the crowd with its horrible stench, poisoning the citizens with malice.

The two men holding Quasimodo down were suddenly thrown from the stage as Quasimodo had mustered enough strength to hold them off. Meriful jumped onstage to try his hand at holding the beast back, but Quasimodo threw Meriful with the same ease as he had the others.

Someone shouted, “Tie him down!”

Ropes were thrown over Quasimodo, held taut by Meriful and another dancer. More men possessed by the darkness stripped Quasimodo of his shirt, exposing his deformed back. A large man dunked Quasimodo’s face into a bucket of water, while another began to whip his exposed hunch.

“Quasimodo! I’ll help you!” Xainn called out, but someone grabbed her wrist: Clopin.

“Are you a fool? He’s gotten himself into this, no one can help him.” He chided.

“Someone has to, now let go of me!” Xainn demanded, struggling.

She summoned her Keyblade, and startled, Clopin released her. “What sorcery…?”

Now free, Xainn turned to the crowd, which had grown so thick that she could barely move. Though her Keyblade was drawn, she realized something: these people were not turning into Heartless, the darkness was just a poison seeping into their bodies. Could they even be affected by the Keyblade’s power?

Scared and hurt, Quasimodo cried out for help, but Xainn was powerless. She turned to look at Frollo, who watched the horror from a distance with that soldier by his side. The soldier’s face held worry, but he was stationary under some order.

Suddenly, a voice screamed, “Stop!”

The crowd fell silent instantly, and everyone held their gaze on Esmeralda; she had jumped onto the stage while Clopin had grappled with Xainn.

Esmeralda drew a knife, cutting Quasimodo free. She offered him water cupped in her hands, and she softly apologized for forcing him to go onstage.

“Seize her!” Frollo demanded, sending a squad of soldiers to capture Esmeralda.

Esmeralda jumped down from the stage, and Clopin grabbed her hand. “You’re a fool, Esmeralda! I knew this would happen!”

He threw down another puff of smoke, vanishing into thin air.

“Witchcraft!” Frollo accused, his eyes wide in fear.

The dancers began to protest as the townspeople gathered around them, shouting and raising their fists. Zindela pointed to an unoccupied alley, ushering for them to escape. Someone saw Quasimodo crawling weakly away from the stage, and the townspeople ran to him. The dancers escaped, and Xainn followed.

Once they had run far enough from the shouting crowd, Xainn stopped. Chirithy appeared, already knowing what Xainn was about to do.

“You’re going back, aren’t you?” He asked, and Xainn nodded.

“I feel so horrible for not being able to do anything. Did you see how thick the darkness was? It’s not just Esmeralda who let him go onstage, but I didn’t do anything to stop them.” She explained.

“Unfortunately, it’s part of the job that you can’t really meddle in these worlds. What happens, happens, and that’s all we can do.” Chirithy said solemnly. “But...you can fix your own actions.”

Xainn turned toward the cathedral, and she changed her course to meet it.

Reentering the square where the festival had been, she watched as the crowd parted and the square emptied. Quasimodo and Frollo were nowhere to be found, but another hooded figure stood in the empty square. It entered the doors of the cathedral, and Chirithy appeared again.

“That was Esmeralda, wasn’t it?” He noted. “Aren’t you going in?”

“I can’t exactly just waltz right in just like she did,” Xainn noted.

“Why not?” Chirthy asked.

Xainn hesitated. “I...don’t think it’s a good idea. Isn’t there a back door?”

Chirithy wiggled his ears. “Use your head, maybe you can figure it out.”

Xainn skirted around to the back of the cathedral, finding a locked door. She summoned her Keyblade, unlocking it, and stepped inside.

The door opened up to a corner of the cathedral. Around her, parishioners with candles waited for mass to begin. On the other side of the cathedral, Frollo had found Esmeralda, and they seemed to be talking.

The parishioners began to sing a gentle hymn, and Frollo turned away. Xainn pressed herself into the shadows, evading Frollo’s gaze.

Alone and dazed by the beauty of the cathedral, Esmeralda stood in the light of the stained glass window.

She began to speak, calling to a higher power. Mesmerised again by Esmeralda’s actions, Xainn pressed herself to a pillar, watching the woman in awe.

Esmeralda, though she had come to La Cité alone, had already been decided as one of Clopin’s band. It seemed Esmeralda had seen the same injustices Clopin had seen happen to his people, and she desperately wished for it to end.

Chirithy reappeared, watching Esmeralda reluctantly fall to her knees in prayer.

“It’s amazing, someone who is seen to have so much darkness by people who believe themselves to be part of the light, is truly the one radiating goodness. She only wants safety and comfort for people like her, and yet this world does not grant them that kindness.” Chirithy murmured.

Xainn’s heart clenched at the thought. Everything Clopin had said about them, about how they turned to thievery and other sins to get by, and yet...were they truly in the wrong? Of course stealing was criminal, but here in this cathedral, Frollo and the parishioners could feel safe. Esmeralda had entered a place where she was not originally welcome, begging for sanctuary for her people.

Esmeralda stood again, only to be approached by the same soldier as before. They began to fight, with Esmeralda gaining the upper hand.

“Come on, we have to see Quasimodo,” Chirithy reminded Xainn.

The door had spat her out next to a long staircase, and she decided to follow it. It led her to the belltower, where Quasimodo tied his spare shirt and sighed.

“You were right...I shouldn’t have gone out….” He said, his voice sounding more confident. But who was he talking to? Did he know Xainn was here?

He turned around, finding Xainn at the entrance. Panicked, he tripped over a bench and scuttled behind it, hiding like a child playing hide-and-seek. Apparently he hadn’t noticed her. But he recognized her, and he poked his head out from behind the bench.

“Xa...Xainn?” He asked, stepping away from the bench.

“It’s okay, I came to apologize.” She said, approaching him.

“Apolo...gize?” Quasimodo wondered, wringing his hands.

Xainn sat on another bench, her hands in her lap. “I had the power to stop those people from harming you, but I couldn’t use it. I’m sorry, Quasimodo.”

Quasimodo shifted on his feet again. “No...my fault. I...should not...have gone…”

Xainn shook her head, unsure of what to say. She recalled him having spoken, but no one else was here. “Were you talking to yourself?”

Quasimodo seemed to perk up, correcting her. “No...not myself...to my...friends.”

He waved his hand to the statues and gargoyles around the room.

“The statues? They talk?” Xainn wondered, walking over to a short and piglike gargoyle.

He suddenly sprang to life, waving a finger at her. “We do more than just talk, missy! We sing, dance, and Victor writes poetry! It’s not very good though.”

Startled, Xainn tripped and fell, landing next to a female-looking gargoyle with twin horns.

“Watch where you’re stepping! You almost took an arm off!” She grumbled, shooing away several birds that had perched on her head.

A third gargoyle, taller than the other two, came to life with a shake of his head. “It’s quite hard to get any sleep with you two jabbering about.”

Xainn watched in awe as the gargoyles hopped over to Quasimodo, who greeted them fondly.

“Hugo, Laverne, Victor...this is Xainn.” He gestured to her. “Xainn...these are my friends.”

“Hello…” Xainn mumbled. “It’s...nice to meet you. Have you known them all your life?”

Quasimodo nodded slowly. “Yes...whole life…”

“Hello? Is anyone up here?” Esmeralda’s voice called from below, muffled, but growing near.

“Must…hide!” Quasimodo decided, crouching by another bench.

The statues instantly froze, turning to motionless stone. Xainn felt herself compelled to follow, hiding behind a statue of a woman praying.

Esmeralda entered the bell tower, finding it near empty save for Quasimodo ducked behind his bench.

“I...I wanted to apologize for forcing you onstage,” Esmeralda said, approaching him slowly, “it was my fault they tormented you.”

Quasimodo came out of hiding hesitantly, approaching Esmeralda. She peeked behind him at the view of the city from the bell tower.

“You can see everything up here, can’t you?” She asked, striding to the open view.

“Y-yes…” Quasimodo agreed, following her to the rail.

She inhaled, taking in the sight of the city. “It’s beautiful. Just, one problem...I’m...afraid of heights!”

She swayed, growing faint, when Quasimodo grabbed her and pulled her away from the rail. Surprised, she yelped, but realized Quasimodo hadn’t tried to hurt her.

“Thank you,” she said gently, smiling at him.

Xainn poked her head out from behind the statue, and the other gargoyles reanimated to listen to Quasimodo and Esmeralda talking.

“It’s like sitting on top of the world,” Esmeralda said.

Quasimodo nodded.

“Are you lonely up here?” Esmeralda wondered.

Quasimodo shook his head. “My...friends.” He gestured to the gargoyles.

“Your friends, the gargoyles? Do they talk to you?” Esmeralda asked, approaching Hugo.

“Another human thinks we don’t talk, huh?” Hugo remarked, and Esmeralda gasped.

Xainn took this as her cue to step out. “Hi…” She mumbled, waving shyly. “I’m Xainn.”

“Hello, Xainn,” Esmeralda said, “I saw you dancing in the square with me earlier. You looked like you had so much fun.”

Xainn found herself turning red. “I haven’t had that much fun in a while. Where I come from, I’m usually too busy to join in with the fun…”

Quasimodo perked, rushing over to the rope which rung the bells. “Must...show you!”

He grabbed the rope, yanking it roughly. The belltower flourished with the sound of the bells, each one providing a unique voice to the chorus.

“Sing, sing for Esmeralda and Xainn!” Quasimodo shouted with a smile on his face, waving his hand like a conductor.

Esmeralda and Xainn clapped their hands over their ears, but Xainn could feel the bells’ singing deep in her heart. Xainn smiled again, a smile that came without force.

Quasimodo eased on the rope, letting the bells settle until they returned to silence.

“They’re so beautiful,” Esmeralda said, “but...loud!”

“Yes,” Quasimodo agreed, “and there...hot lead! I use it to fix the bells. Be careful, it is very hot…”

He turned to the ladder where the vat of boiling lead sat, when someone entered the belltower in a fit of rage.

“QUASIMODO WHAT ARE YOU DOING RINGING THE BELLS AT THE WRONG TIME? WHEN HAVE YOU EVE-”

Frollo halted mid-sentence to find Xainn and Esmeralda accompanying Quasimodo. Quasimodo shrank, hunching himself over even more.

“I can explain,” Esmeralda began.

“No, there is plenty of explanation.” Frollo dismissed. He strode past them to Quasimodo. “They are to leave, and you are to never speak to them again. Is that clear?”

Quasimodo nodded sadly. “Yes...master.”

Frollo regarded him, accepting his answer. “Very well. Return to your chores.”

He turned to Xainn and Esmeralda, focusing on Esmeralda. “You know your kind are not welcome here, but you...I see light in your heart. I see there is hope, even. Perhaps I could help you mend your ways? You could come to the cathedral every day, or...better yet, stay here, with me.”

With every word, he had stepped closer to Esmeralda, and Esmeralda had retreated back.

“I...don’t think that’s a good idea,” she replied, disgust in her tone, “I see the way you look at me.”

Frollo’s features turned to horror. “How dare you? You are so impure that you cannot even imagine a kindhearted man trying to help you! You’ve made your choice; if you set foot here again, you will be imprisoned immediately.”

He whipped his head toward Xainn, and shivers ran through her body. “And you! If I see you here, you will be imprisoned as well!”

Frollo called for the captain to escort them out, but Esmeralda had already begun making her way down the staircase.

Xainn glanced at Quasimodo, offering him another silent apology, before taking her leave as well.

The soldier from the festival - whom Xainn would learn his name to be Captain Phoebus - escorted them back onto the streets.

“It’s not fair, he shouldn’t keep Quasimodo locked up like that,” Esmeralda said. “If only someone stood up to him…you! You could help me! Together, we can -”

“I can’t,” Xainn interrupted.

Esmeralda frowned. “Why not? Aren’t you just as angry with Frollo as I am?”

Xainn rubbed her arm. “It’s just...I’m not from this world. I don’t really belong here.”

Esmeralda snorted. “Neither do I. You and I, we’re not so different.”

“No, it’s not just being - who we are. For me, I’m from another world.” Xainn explained.

Esmeralda’s gaze fell to the ground. “Is there injustice in your world, too?”

Xainn nodded. “There is darkness, and it’s spreading to other worlds. I haven’t figured out how to stop it without interfering too much.”

Esmeralda met eyes with Xainn. “I know someplace where we can talk about this further. We’ll be safe there, and there will be more dancing and fun if you like.”

Xainn followed Esmeralda through the streets until the sky became dark, and Quasimodo sent the city to sleep with another ringing of the bells.

The two girls came across a tavern with a weathered sign out front: it read _La Pomme D’Eve_ , and was shaped like an apple with a bite taken out of it. Painted around the apple was a snake, sinking its fangs into the apple’s flesh.

Esmeralda opened the door to find the other dancers singing and dancing among wooden tables. They clinked mugs of ale, cheering and whooping. She grabbed Xainn’s hand, pulling her inside and shutting the door.

Xainn found Clopin sitting at a table with a mug of ale, watching his subjects like a king in his court.

They called for Esmeralda to dance, and Esmeralda led them into an infectious song and dance.

Suddenly, the door swung open to reveal Phoebus and another soldier. The dancers froze, regarding them carefully. Some drew weapons, and Xainn was moments away from summoning her Keyblade when Phoebus spoke:

“It’s alright, we’re not here to harm you; we’re just looking for a little rest and recreation,” he explained.

Clopin rose from his throne, striding toward Phoebus. He regarded the soldiers carefully, before letting Phoebus shove the other soldier inside. Clopin kept Phoebus at the door, and occasionally, Phoebus would glance at Esmeralda behind him.

“I’m afraid she’s already spoken for,” Xainn heard Clopin say, and Esmeralda pushed past her to meet them.

“I can speak for myself, Clopin,” Esmeralda said indignantly, and Clopin waved her aside.

She and Phoebus remained speaking to each other, until Phoebus pulled Esmeralda close in a kiss.

Taken aback, Xainn turned her head to give them privacy. Chirithy appeared beside her, reflecting on the situation.

“It looks like Esmeralda’s heart has chosen Phoebus,” he said. “Maybe we should take this time to check on Quasimodo.”

“But I can’t go back without Frollo imprisoning me!” Xainn recalled.

Chirithy wiggled his ears mischievously. “Something tells me Frollo is preoccupied at the moment.”

He turned his head upward, and Xainn saw him: Frollo, on the second story of the tavern, gripping the wooden rail as he watched Phoebus and Esmeralda in their embrace.

Chirithy led Xainn out of the tavern through a secret door behind the bar, and she found herself alone on the dark streets. With the cathedral standing tall, she found her way back to the belltower in no time.

She found Quasimodo glancing over the rail with Victor, Hugo, and Laverne.

“There! That’s her!” Quasimodo pointed excitedly.

“No, that’s not her,” Laverne said. “You’re seeing things.”

“Quasimodo, perhaps you should take Frollo’s warnings to heed,” Victor suggested.

Xainn settled next to them, leaning over the rail herself. “What’s going on?”

“Master...told me...not to think of Esmeralda…” Quasimodo explained. “But...I cannot stop thinking of her…”

“That’s horrible. You should be able to think of whomever you please.” Xainn said.

Quasimodo sighed. “You said...I have a heart?”

Xainn agreed, reminding him that only humans have hearts.

“Then...my heart thinks of Esmeralda,” Quasimodo said. “She...was the only one...who showed compassion…”

“Your heart is strong,” Xainn explained, “I felt it when I first got here. But you should be careful of the darkness, and try to keep it out of your heart. Esmeralda is light as far as I know, but Frollo could convince you that she is made of darkness.”

“I’ve...never known...anything like this…” Quasimodo said, his hand drifting over his heart.

Xainn couldn’t help but smile. “You’re in love, Quasimodo.”

“In...love?” Quasimodo repeated.

“You love Esmeralda, don’t you?” Xainn asked. “That’s nothing to be afraid of. Love is very powerful, as powerful as the strongest light.”

“Like...heaven’s light…” Quasimodo mused.

“Yes, like heaven’s light,” Xainn agreed. Her own heart clenched, remembering Esmeralda had chosen someone else.

Quasimodo yawned, and Xainn bade Quasimodo goodnight. Besides, she had a long route ahead if she were to make her way back to either La Pomme D’Eve, or the Court of Miracles. Perhaps she could spend the night in Clopin’s puppet caravan, if those puppets weren’t so creepy.

She crept down the staircase, finding Frollo alone in the cathedral.

He gripped his body, as if racked with pain. He asked Notre Dame for strength in fighting off the horrid thoughts of Esmeralda, thoughts that grew deeper and more lustful as each day passed.

His desire for Esmeralda seared, like fire straight from hell. The darkness curled around his feet, almost like flames themselves.

He could not bear these thoughts anymore, he decided. He knew something must be done, and it must be done soon. If Esmeralda could not choose between him and her life, he would have her killed.

Shocked, Xainn left the cathedral as quietly as she could. She had to warn Esmeralda of the danger, and so she set out for La Pomme D’Eve as quickly as she could.

By the time she had entered the tavern, she found herself exhausted.

“Esmeralda...Frollo...will kill you...must...hide...” She gasped, falling to her knees.

Meriful helped Xainn to her feet, finding her to a place to sleep.

Esmeralda took Xainn’s word, and began to gather any belongings in case she had to escape before daybreak. Xainn lay down on a bench in the tavern, and she fell asleep instantly.

 

When Xainn woke the next day, a bounty had gone out for Esmeralda in a matter of hours. Soldiers led by Captain Phoebus patrolled the city, searching for Esmeralda in every last place. However, Clopin was convinced Frollo did not know where the Court of Miracles was, since it was so far from the cathedral. He offered Esmeralda sanctuary there, and she complied.

As the other dancers returned to the Court of Miracles, Xainn found herself in turmoil. Would she break the rules and fight Frollo and his darkness, or would she continue to be a bystander?

Xainn spent most of her moments in the Court of Miracles with the others, keeping to the shadows and away from Frollo’s eyes. Sometimes she accompanied Zindela and Meriful in their thievery, but never taking place in thievery herself.

In one of those moments, Esmeralda returned from going outside, which she mostly avoided.

“Where were you?” Clopin demanded.

“Phoebus was hurt, I had to take care of him,” she explained. “He’s safe in the belltower with Quasimodo.”  
“Willingly going to enemy territory? You certainly are brave Esmeralda, or foolish if that fits.” Clopin chided. “You should’ve at least gone with Xainn; she has that protective weapon.”

A group of scouts returned from their watch, reporting no unusual activity to Clopin. Zindela, Meriful, and Xainn went to take their scouting shift.

Xainn climbed the stairs, crouching behind a gravestone while Zindela and Meriful took to opposite ones. They drew their knives, keeping them ready in case danger appeared. Xainn drew her Keyblade, staring into the metal. Her reflection seemed so different, she almost couldn’t believe that she stared back at herself.

The graveyard was silent. Up above, the dark sky showed no stars. This worried Xainn; perhaps the darkness had already begun to spread. Suddenly, she heard hushed voices coming over the hill. Peeking her head out, she recognized the figures.

“Quasimodo, Phoebus!” She exclaimed stupidly, rushing to them. “Be careful, it’s a trap!”

“Xainn!” Quasimodo said, when suddenly the lookouts stationed behind other graves ambushed them.

They blindfolded and gagged them, pulling them into the darkness. Xainn followed them back inside, knowing that Clopin would probably kill them lest she speak up.

By the time she caught up with them, nooses were draped over their heads.

“The ugly hunchback, he’s bad luck!” Someone called out.

“Hang them both!” Another agreed.

“String ‘em up!” Cried a third.

“Any last words?” Clopin asked, but Quasimodo and Phoebus could only answer in muffled voices.

“That’s what they all say!” Clopin laughed, and the others joined.

Two others waited for Clopin to give them the signal to kick their stools out from under their feet, when Esmeralda and Xainn both exclaimed, “STOP!”

Esmeralda rushed to them, removing their gags and nooses. “These men are my friends.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you,” Clopin said, “how could you betray us?”  
“I haven’t betrayed you,” Esmeralda insisted, untying Quasimodo’s binds.

“Please, listen to us,” Phoebus begged. “You’re all in great danger; Frollo knows your hiding place, he’ll attack at dawn.”

Gasps and hushed voices fell over the others, and Clopin calmed them.

“How do you know this?” He demanded.

Quasimodo held up a finger. “Master...told me.”

“Why should we believe you? You’re Frollo’s slave!” Clopin laughed indignantly.

Esmeralda stepped forward, defending Quasimodo. “He wouldn’t lie to us.”

“And what about him?” Clopin jabbed a hand toward Phoebus. “He’s a soldier! We don’t trust soldiers.”

Phoebus huffed, rubbing his wrists. “I’m not a soldier anymore; I’m as much an outcast as you.”

Xainn snorted to the side, and a few others did as well. How could a man whose only outcasting trait was that he’d been fired from the cathedral guard, when these people lived, raised their children, and died in forced poverty?

Nevertheless, they couldn’t be too careful to ignore his words; if Frollo’s men were truly on their way, they had no time to lose.

“We don’t have much time, if you’re going to trust them,” Xainn offered, placing a hand on Clopin’s shoulder.

Clopin sensed this as well, meeting eyes with Xainn and sighing. “I feared this day would come…” Still, with the leadership and pride inside him, he ordered them, _“Yashá!”_

They fled into their meager tents and arrangements, pulling down every last trace of themselves in the Court of Miracles.

Xainn, having nothing to own or pack, stayed beside Clopin.

“Clopin,” she began hesitantly, but Clopin finished her words.

“Oh no, you’re not thinking of fighting Frollo yourself, are you? Why, if you are so foolish, I’ll...I’ll banish you from the Court of Miracles!” He warned.

Xainn clenched her fist. “That’s not fair!”

“You’ve become one of us, and I cannot let you do anything dangerous,” Clopin explained.

He had started to sound like the foretellers, especially Foreteller Ira, which only compelled Xainn to follow her desire further. Her own foreteller, Foreteller Ava of the Union Vulpes, would have gladly encouraged Xainn to fight.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t watch you and the others hide from Frollo like mice from a cat,” she said. “I want to fight him, for you, for Esmeralda, and for Quasimodo. And for Phoebus too, who is in this position because of his love for Esmeralda.”

Clopin sighed in exhaustion, pulling something from his pocket. “Here, take this then.”

He handed her a small bell charm, which she fixed to her Keyblade. Her Keyblade transformed into a new blade: Guardian Bell.

She thanked Clopin, holding her Keyblade tight.

“I’m going to take Frollo on myself,” Xainn replied. “Please, stay here. I would ask for your help, but I can’t risk you getting caught by another soldier.”

“Esmeralda, go pack,” Clopin said, motioning for her to leave Phoebus’s side.

“Pack? You’re...going with them?” Phoebus faltered, his fears having been realized.

Esmeralda allowed him a half-hearted smile, and Clopin answered, “We never leave one of our own behind. Not...not again.”

He glanced over to Quasimodo, who cowered in the corner.

“Then, I’ll go with you!” Phoebus offered.

Esmeralda shook her head, dismissing the idea. “I can’t let you get hurt.”

“You don’t know what you’d be facing,” Clopin added.

Phoebus tossed Clopin a defiant glance. “Actually, I think I’ve gotten a pretty good idea over the past few days. But...I don’t care.”

He took Esmeralda’s hands in his, leaning in to kiss her.

Quasimodo’s poor, mortal heart shattered like glass; Xainn could almost hear the pieces falling to the ground.

The rest of the thieves and dancers gathered to the center of the Court of Miracles, taking one final look at their temporary home for the last time. Xainn wondered where they would go, if not here. Could they go to other worlds? Maybe they could seek refuge in Daybreak Town, though she knew that would be deeply forbidden.

Esmeralda and Phoebus shared a smile, squeezing each other’s hands. For the first time, they felt freedom and safety within the hands of another.

Xainn felt a hand on her shoulder, and found Zindela and Meriful beside her. She touched their hands, knowing she could not stay with them.

“Well done, my boy, you’ve led us straight to them.” A voice announced its arrival behind them, and the inhabitants of the court whirled around.

Their worst fears had been realized as Claude Frollo and his soldiers stood in the doorway.

The court flocked into one group as the soldiers surrounded them, holding them at sword-point to the wall. Some stared in horror and disgust at Quasimodo, who cowered from his master’s presence. Did they really believe this had been a trick all along?

“So, this is the Court of Miracles,” Frollo mused, sarcasm on his tongue, “not so impressive. Take Esmeralda as captive.”

Phoebus rushed forward, a hand on his heart. “No, take me instead!”

“No, I’m the one you want!” Esmeralda insisted, pushing past Phoebus.

Frollo smiled sinisterly. “How noble...take them both! And round up the rest of them and bring them to the bastille!”

The people around Xainn begged for mercy, but Frollo only sneered at them. He met eyes with Xainn, recognizing her as the girl who had been in the belltower with Quasimodo.

Clopin ran past the soldiers, standing tall and defiant. His eyes flicked over his subjects, one last act of a king, begging for forgiveness for his following actions.

 _“Zorale sam!”_ He cried, throwing a smoke bomb at his feet. The smoke erupted around him, and he disappeared without a trace.

“My lord!” A soldier gasped.

“Don’t worry, we’ll find him,” Frollo assured.

Xainn stomped toward Frollo. “You’ll never find him! He’ll be halfway across the city by the time you’ve even come close!”

Frollo leered, his eyes flashing with vile amusement. Darkness swirled at his feet, and Xainn summoned her Keyblade.

“Take Quasimodo back to the belltower, and take these scoundrels away. It seems I have matters of my own to attend to.” Frollo ordered.

The soldiers waved the others onward, and the sounds of their pleas rang in Xainn’s ears. Esmeralda and Phoebus were handcuffed and dragged away. Held at swordpoint, Quasimodo was escorted out of the Court of Miracles.

“You’ve overstayed your visit for far too long,” Frollo said, the darkness taking shape. A huge Heartless loomed over Xainn in Frollo’s place, one that resembled the gargoyles on the cathedral. Frollo disappeared behind the monster’s wake of darkness, and Xainn ran.

The Heartless chased her through the endless sequence of tunnels, crashing through every twist and turn. Through darker and darker tunnels, Xainn pressed on through the light of her Keyblade.

Nearing the entrance to the Court of Miracles, she leapt through the open grave. Just as the Heartless came within view, she blasted Firaga at the entrance. The entrance collapsed, crushing the Heartless underneath.

Alone in the graveyard, she found no trace of where anyone had gone. The sky was dark with nightfall, but even beyond the night sky, Xainn could feel the darkness brewing. Frollo’s power here had grown too strong, and this world would fall soon.

Gripping her Keyblade, she rushed toward the cathedral.

Chirithy appeared on her shoulder. “They’re going to burn Esmeralda at the stake.”

“I know,” Xainn muttered, “and it’s all my fault. I can’t stand here and let these things just happen.”

“It’s not in our place to meddle in the worlds’ stories,” Chirithy reminded her.

She skidded to a stop, throwing down her Keyblade. “So I’m just supposed to stand here, watching innocent people die? It’s not just about Esmeralda and Phoebus and Quasimodo anymore! What about Clopin, what about Zindela and Meriful, what about the others?”

Xainn fell to her knees. “All I did back at Daybreak Town was watch life go by. I let Ephemer slip through my fingers, and I lost him. I fought Foreteller Ira, thinking that would bring him back, but nothing happened. I try to listen to my heart, but every time I do, things go wrong! Is...is it me? Maybe... _I’m_ the real darkness here…?”

Chirithy placed a paw on Xainn’s hand, her tears falling on her skirt. “What am I supposed to do? It seems like everything I do is the wrong thing…”

Chirithy lifted his head to her. “It may not be our place to meddle in the story of the worlds...but it is our duty to protect them.”

Xainn nodded, wiping her tears and sprinting to the belltower.

She found Quasimodo tied up in the belltower, surrounded by the gargoyles.

“You’ve gotta try to free yourself, Quasi!” Laverne pushed.

“I’m not going to.” Quasimodo stated.

Xainn ran to his side, Keyblade brandished. “I can free you! Then you can go save Esmeralda!”

“Why would I save her? Everything I do, it makes things worse!” Quasimodo cried, slamming his fists on the ground. “The only one who was _ever_ truthful to me was Frollo! He told me it was horrible outside, and he was right! Even you, Xainn, you lied to me! You said I wasn’t a monster for the heart I had, but if I had any heart, I would’ve protected Esmeralda! And now...she’s broken it. I have no heart left, Xainn.”

Xainn wavered, gripping her Keyblade. “Look, I thought the same thing about myself before coming here. It seems like everything I’ve done in this world has gotten it closer to darkness. But you and I can change that, Quasimodo. You just need to believe in yourself!”

“Go away! You’ve done enough here!” He shouted, waving his hand to shoo her.

Xainn huffed indignantly. “Fine! Stay here and watch Esmeralda die! I’m going to see what I can do about this. Feel free to join me.”

She rushed out of the belltower, trudging downstairs.

Dawn was breaking, and Esmeralda’s life would soon be snuffed out. Among the sun’s morning rays, the darkness swirled behind it. It was more than night turning to day: this world would soon be handed to darkness.

She entered the square where a pyre had been built. Esmeralda and Phoebus were ripped apart as she was escorted to the pyre, and tied to the stake.

“Esmeralda!” She shouted, but the townspeople gathering had drowned out her voice. Many called for Esmeralda’s death, cheering and shouting.

“The prisoner has been found guilty of entering the city illegal, stabbing a soldier, and of witchcraft! The sentence is death!” Frollo announced. He turned to Esmeralda, offering her one last chance to plead. He leaned in close to her, whispering something, but Esmeralda refused, spitting on his face.

He recoiled, and the crowd shouted for her death.

“For the salvation of this world, it is my duty to send this unholy demon back from whence it came!” Frollo took the torch from the soldier standing by, and lit her pyre.

Esmeralda screamed, and Xainn ran forward. She was greeted by several soldiers, attempting to stop her. She swung her Keyblade at them, blasting them with Thundara. Their armor conducted the electricity, immobilizing them.

Suddenly, swinging down from the cathedral, Quasimodo dropped onto the pyre, grabbing Esmeralda and slinging her over his shoulder. He scaled the cathedral, standing at the top in the radiance of the stained glass window.

He held Esmeralda above his head, crying out, “Sanctuary! Sanctuary!”

While the guards were distracted with Frollo’s orders, Xainn rushed into the cathedral. She barred the doors, using Magnera to pile candelabras and pews against the wood. She climbed the stairs as quickly as she could, her breathing labored as she reached the top.

Down below, Phoebus had been freed from imprisonment by Clopin. He rallied the townspeople to fight back against the soldiers, who were trying to ram the cathedral doors open. Quasimodo threw down stones and boulders, but the soldiers still burst through.

“Xainn! The lead!” He shouted, and Xainn climbed up to the ledge holding the vat of molten lead.

She blasted the vat with Magnera, and the vat tipped, pouring the hot lead over the city. Screams rang out through the square, quickly extinguished by the streams of lead flowing over the city.

Exhausted, Xainn climbed down from the ledge. She collapsed, sitting on the floor.

“We’ve done it, Esmeralda!” Quasimodo rejoiced, sitting on a bench where he had laid Esmeralda. “We’ve beaten them back!”

He helped her sit up, and smiled at her, “You’re home now.”

“Thank you, Quasimodo,” she said, her voice weak.

“You can stay here forever,” he offered.

She shook her head, smiling. “No...not forever. You’re such a good friend, Quasimodo…”

She coughed, and Xainn noticed the burns crawling up Esmeralda’s skin. It was a miracle she had come to at all, but the miracle did not last. While Quasimodo beamed at her, she fell limp in his arms. Her shining green eyes closed, her last breath escaping.

“Esmeralda? Esmeralda, wake up!” He said, shaking her, but she did not stir.

Shocked, he lay her gently on the bench, and backed away in horror.

“Is she dead?” Frollo’s voice mumbled from the shadows.

Xainn rose to her feet, summoning her Keyblade.

“Because...of you…” Quasimodo said, leering at Frollo.

“I did what I had to,” Frollo said. “But now...everything can go back to the way it was.”

“No...never go back…” Quasimodo warned.

Frollo approached him, arms spread. “It was her choice, Quasimodo! I could’ve saved her, even...loved her!”

“Love,” Quasimodo spat, “what do you know of love? Who have you _ever_ loved?”

“I loved -” Frollo began, but faltered as he searched for an answer. “I loved my brother! I tried to teach Jehan, but he was weak! The darkness in him…he was wicked!”

His name, Jehan, sounded so eerily similar to Xainn’s that her heartbeat spiked.

Quasimodo shook his head. “No...you’re the weak one, the wicked one! And...the wicked shall not go...unpunished!”

With each word, he rose, holding himself up straight, and Xainn held her breath.

As if in a dream, two ghostly figures appeared in the shadows: Jehan and Florika.

They whispered, “The wicked shall not go unpunished...the heart of the wicked is of little worth.”

Quasimodo advanced on Frollo, grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him toward the balcony.

“What are you doing? Let go of me!” Frollo demanded as he neared the edge.

Quasimodo sneered through gritted teeth. “I told you, Master, I am very strong!”

Frollo cowered, his voice weak. “You don’t want to hurt me…”

The darkness whispered to Quasimodo, confirming his desires. “Yes you do.”

He raised his hands, and threw Frollo over the balcony with a guttural scream.

Xainn heard herself screaming, but the darkness had spread to even Quasimodo’s heart.

Frollo’s voice echoed as he fell, disappearing into the abyss.

_Damnation!_

Shaking, Quasimodo stared at his hands in disbelief at the damage they had done. He mumbled weakly, “There lies...all I’ve ever loved…”

He screamed, and Xainn overcame her shock. She went to his side, but he lashed out.

“Don’t! You’ve done enough here…this darkness...it is yours…”

Xainn stared down at her feet, noticing for the first time the tendrils of darkness coiling around her. “No...Quasimodo…”

“Go! And don’t...come back!” Quasimodo refused. He limped toward Esmeralda’s body, holding her in his arms.

Phoebus entered the belltower, finding Quasimodo holding the body. He staggered toward them, falling to his knees.

Xainn stared at her own two hands. Had all this darkness really come from her? Could it have been she who whispered to Quasimodo, driving him to kill his master?

She couldn’t stay, not now. Before leaving the belltower, she swore she saw Esmeralda’s spirit drift away, glancing at Quasimodo and Phoebus one last time. Jehan and Florika also turned, leaving their mortal son behind. A shining heart rose up from Esmeralda’s body toward the sky, and Xainn left the belltower.

Outside, the sky had turned. Darkness swirled above the cathedral in large tendrils. Charred bodies lay in the street. Clopin and his people were nowhere to be found.

The damage here...who could she blame but herself?

She raised her Keyblade, opening a corridor back to Daybreak Town.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I’m so, so sorry…”

She stepped through as La Cité des Cloches was swallowed by the darkness. Maybe one day, someone would save it. Someday...soon.

 

Xainn woke in Daybreak Town, though her night had been near restless.

The eternal daybreak shone, free of the unrelenting darkness...for now. She wished Esmeralda and Quasimodo could’ve seen a morning such as this.

Her clothes had turned back to normal, and the sewage smell had vanished.

Outside, under her window, she heard laughter as a group of wielders ran past.

She grabbed Guardian Bell, running outside to join them. If darkness could catch up to her, she would not let it.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this, it was an interesting divergence from what I normally write. I used to dislike self-insert fics but I had to write about this experience
> 
> If you didn't enjoy this, my regular content will be arriving again soon. Thank you for reading <3


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